


Love and Loss

by gleeksfreaksandwannabes



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec is grieving, Canon - Book, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Funeral, I'm Sorry, M/M, Max is dead, i don't know how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-13 22:58:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7141556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleeksfreaksandwannabes/pseuds/gleeksfreaksandwannabes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec's family always came first, especially at Max's funeral when they needed him the most, but he soon learns that he can't always take care of the ones he loves, not when he's hurting like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Loss

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first story on here, and I'm kinda terrified! This is just something my terrible brain decided to torture me with, and I just had to get it out of my system, so I thought I'd post it on here.  
> Let me know what you think, and please go easy on me, I haven't done this in a while!  
> You can find me on tumbr [here!](http://gleeksfreaksandwannabes.tumblr.com/)

The weather couldn’t have been more wrong for Max Lightwood’s funeral. The sun beamed down on the small crowd in white, catching the red runes embroidered like blood on every sleeve and every collar. Runes of mourning. Remembrance, grief and strength in times of loss. They didn’t help, Alec thought as he stood towards the back of the crowd, watching the small group of family members bow their heads in respect at Brother Jeremiah’s speech, these runes were only symbolic. How very typical of Shadowhunter culture, Alec thought grimly, to have runes made especially for mourning that did absolutely nothing to heal the emptiness he felt in his heart, to stop the tears that Isabelle had not been able to control since she had seen Max, to stop the agonizing grief of losing someone so young, so innocent. It wasn’t fair. Max wasn’t even near the battle; he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…

He should be angry, he thought briefly, he should have been cursing Sebastian’s name into the dust like Jace was, or he should have cried like Isabelle, begging for the world to bring their baby brother back. He did none of that. In fact, he had barely moved or spoken since they had found Max’s body, save for pulling Isabelle into his arms and comforting her until she cried herself to sleep, or allowing his mother to rest her head against his chest as the Silent Brothers bound Max’s little body in the white mourning silk this morning. It wasn’t that losing Max didn’t hurt. It hurt like hell, but Alec’s family were suffering. They needed him. Needed him to be their rock; a shoulder to cry on or a comforting arm to curl up into, and that is what he had been. He hadn’t cried, hadn’t knelt over Max’s body before it was burned to say his final goodbyes. He had simply stood by his family, arms open for Isabelle to fall into, for his mother to take solace in, even for Jace to collapse against, sniffing roughly.

He felt Jace’s eyes on him now across the square, and he turned to see his _parabatai_ watching him in concern over Isabelle’s dark hair, running a hand through it comfortingly as she trembled against his shoulder. Alec offered him a grateful nod before turning back to the service. Jace worried too much, he thought as he watched the Silent Brothers lift Max’s body onto a stone carrier. Jace had been flitting between his and Isabelle’s sides ever since the battle at Brocelind Plain had ended, comforting his sister and asking Alec over and over again if he was alright, but how could he be?

How could Alec be alright, he thought as he watched the Brothers carry Max away to a secluded spot in the forest, away from the grieving Shadowhunters. How could he possibly be alright, when that was his baby brother under that sheet, when that was his nine-year-old little brother, who had had nothing to do with the battle or with Valentine, but whose life was ripped away by his demon of a son? When Max had been killed before he could even begin training; when all Max talked about was being able to slay demons just like Jace, and going on missions with his siblings, saving mundanes and defeating the bad guys? How on earth could Alec be alright when the very thought of his brother losing his life tightened a cold knot in his heart, when a lump formed in his throat that made him gasp to breathe again? How could Alec ever be alright again, when the image of the white smoke unfurling from the woods choked him, even though he was nowhere near it, when the smoke signalling his brother’s final passing burned in the back of his eyes, like the tears he couldn’t bring himself to let fall—

“Alexander,” came a voice beside him. He didn’t turn, but felt Magnus standing beside him, his calming presence radiating like heat from his body “I am so sorry,”

“Why are you sorry?” Alec asked, his eyes on the ground and his voice painfully flat, lifeless “You didn’t do this to him,”

“It’s an expression, darling,” Magnus said gently “It shouldn’t have been this way,” Alec didn’t respond, his eyes trained on the Silent Brothers, returning from the woods carrying Max’s ashes.

“No,” he said eventually “it shouldn’t.” Alec watched as his parents approached the Silent Brothers, presumably thanking them and saying their goodbyes to Max, before the Brothers stepped through a glistening purple portal, the only colour amongst the sea of white faces and white clothes. Max was going to be buried in New York, in the Silent City amongst other Lightwoods. His ancestors, who had lived much longer than he had…

“Alexander,” Magnus said again, and Alec looked down at him. He had a ringed hand raised, as if reaching out to touch Alec, but wasn’t sure if Alec would allow him. Making a decision and lowering his hand, Magus let out a sigh “you have been so strong, taking care of your family through this, I worry about the toll it is taking on you,” Alec saw Magnus as if through a layer of glass, his expression one of concern, but Alec didn’t feel it’s warmth. Just as he hadn’t felt the warmth of Jace’s hug when he had arrived back in Alicante and heard the news, or when his parents had enveloped all three of their children in a hug at the Hall of Accords as the Silent Brothers laid out the dead. Alec felt cold. Not enough to make him shiver, but it was a cool sensation in his chest, as if his heart were surrounded by a sheet of numbing ice. He felt sick; the numbing sensation moving through the rest of his body, as if the ice was moving through his veins, mixing with his blood, and suddenly he was shaking.

Alec’s hands were trembling, and he moved his eyes from Magnus dazedly to his hands, clasping them together to stop the shaking. But it was no use. The trembling had moved through his body, each beat of his heart pumping the chilling cold through his veins, up to his shoulders, down to his knees as they gave out from under him. Magnus dropped to the ground beside him in an instant, a hesitant hand on Alec’s quivering shoulder as he bowed his head.

“Magnus,” Alec got out without raising his head, his voice as shaky as the rest of him, and he could swear he felt his teeth chattering “Magnus I—I can’t – Magnus, Max! He— it hurts—“Alec’s voice shook and broke as he tried to speak, his throat agonizingly dry and his eyes burning with tears.

“Alec, it’s alright,” Magnus was saying gently, running his hand over Alec’s back comfortingly, but Alec was shaking his head, still not raising his eyes from the ground. There were dark spots on the patch of dirt in front of Alec now, he realized dimly. Tear drops. He felt them, hot and painful, rolling slowly down his cheeks and landing on the ground, on his knees, on his trembling hands. They were coming faster now, a warm flood of salt and grief. Alec tasted them as he opened his mouth to get out Magnus’ name, but they were mixed with the metallic taste of blood coming somewhere from the back of his throat, red raw as he let out a hiccupping sob and his shoulders spasmed.

Magnus had his arm around Alec’s shoulders now, his slim fingers digging in slightly to the muscle there, wordlessly giving Alec support. But it wasn’t enough. Alec was cold, his body trembling from the sensation or from the crying, he wasn’t sure, but he needed the warmth of someone around him like he needed air. A gut wrenching sob wracked Alec’s limp body as the hot tears continued to spill over, followed by another, and another, until he felt himself crash against something warm and solid, Magnus’ chest, gripping at fistfuls of his shirt as the warlock wrapped strong but gentle arms around his trembling form.

“Shh darling,” he was saying soothingly, running his fingers lightly up and down the outside of Alec’s bicep “you’re alright, I’ve got you now, Alexander. You’re going to be alright…” Alec’s cheek was damp, he realized as his breathing became laboured. He let out a hiccup against Magnus’ body, and found that he had dampened the warlock’s shirt with his tears. He dimly reached up to wipe them, but was stopped as Magnus took his hand, holding it in his own and stroking the back of it with his thumb. Alec took shuddering breath,

“Mag— Magnus, I—“ but his words were lost to the pained cry he let out, his chest tightening and the back of his throat burning as he squeezed his eyes shut, leaning closer to Magnus as he cried. Magnus tightened his grip around Alec’s shoulders, his other hand releasing Alec’s to hug him close,

“Shh, don’t speak angel,” he told him gently, his hand moving to weave his fingers in Alec’s black hair as the boy’s sobs eventually tempered into little hiccupping gasps and sniffs “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be alright. You are so strong, Alexander,”

“I—I’m not,” Alec got out, burying his head into Magnus’ chest further. He felt safe there, for the first time in a long time. He felt at home in Magnus’ arms, protected from anything he couldn’t face alone. But this wasn’t how it should be. Alec was a Shadowhunter, Shadowhunters didn’t hide from anything, and they certainly didn’t _cry_.

Alec forced himself back, pushing himself away from Magnus as if he had been burned, He could have sworn he saw a look of hurt flash in the warlock’s eyes, quick as a trick of the light, before his expression softened into sympathy,

“Alexander,” he said gently “is everything alright?” Alec refused to meet Magnus’ gaze, his eyes trained on the dirt in front of him, wrapping his arms instinctively around his middle.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly.

“You’re not,” Magnus pointed out “and I understand, Alec. Max was your brother, of course you’re upset—“

“So? Crying about it isn’t going to bring him back, is it?” his voice was harsh from the tears he’d shed, and he felt fresh ones stinging his eyes, but he blinked them away roughly.

“No,” Magnus said calmly, his eyes watching as Alec appeared to look anywhere but at him “but I can tell you from experience that it does help with loss—“

“Shadowhunters aren’t supposed to cry,” Alec spoke as if he hadn’t heard him, and Magnus had the feeling that if they had been standing up, he would have been pacing “we’re not supposed to give into emotions like –“ he shook his head as if to clear it “like that,”

“Your sister cried at the funeral,” Magnus reminded him gently “and your mother, and I’m willing to bet that Jace probably did too,”

“And I’m supposed to comfort them,” Alec said, almost as if he were chiding himself “they needed me today, and instead I’m some teary mess on the ground,” Magnus shuffled forward, the movement slightly awkward given that they were kneeling on the ground, his eyes bearing into Alec’s,

“You did comfort them,” he insisted gently “but Alec, you’re not made of stone, and you’re certainly not a vault of emotions.” he exhaled “You are so selfless, darling. You do anything for those you care about, and that’s one of the things I love most about you, but sometimes it’s hard for me to watch you. I watch you give yourself away to those you love, to me, you give everything you have, every ounce of strength and every ounce of heart you have in you. But what does that leave you with, my angel, when all is said and done? It leaves you broken. It leaves your emotions dumped in a corner because you love everybody else _so much_ , and I hate it, Alexander. I hate to see you toss your own wellbeing aside or shove it down in favour of those you love, but how can I stop you? How can stop you from doing what’s in your nature?” he reached for Alec’s hand then, dimly pleased when Alec didn’t flinch away “I cannot change you, and I would never want to. But Alexander, carrying around this much grief, this much pain? It’s killing you, and it’s killing me to see you this way” there was a long silence as Alec dropped his gaze to the ground again, reluctantly lifting it after a moment to look up through his eyelashes,

“Magnus, I’m sorry,” but Magnus was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, darling,” he said gently “just let someone else take care of you for a change.” he tugged gently at Alec’s wrist, and Alec leaned in, his head against Magnus’ chest again as the warlock put an arm around him, drawing light patterns on his bicep with his fingertips. His other hand was tangling gently in Alec’s hair again, stroking it comfortingly, pausing only to press a gentle kiss to the top of his head “Let me take care of you,”

 


End file.
